


Lose Yourself

by FictionAddictions23



Category: One Piece
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Grief/Mourning, Love Confessions, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9376418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionAddictions23/pseuds/FictionAddictions23
Summary: When the Straw Hat crew must face the death of their swordsman, Sanji is unable to hide his deep grief. What exactly was the cook's relationship with Zoro?Warnings: Fake character death, smut, and fluff.





	

Sanji witnessed the slice that reopened Zoro’s old chest wound with a detached sense of disbelief. He’d been too far away to have intervened even if he hadn’t assumed that the swordsman would be able to block the slash, which he could have if he’d only had a sword in his hand.

The pirate who had gone after Nami with that enormous blade had been lucky enough to choose the perfect moment to strike—in the instant that their navigator had been thrown to the deck by the lurching of the Thousand Sunny, that same unexpected motion had caught even the sturdy swordsman off-guard, and a large wall of water had knocked him over and washed his weapons away.

Truly, that pirate owed his successful attack to the luckiest of circumstances because Zoro happened to have been knocked closer to Nami while his swords settled nowhere near enough for him to have retrieved them before the blade fell. The fearless first-mate had done exactly what was expected of him, and he didn’t hesitate to throw himself into the blade’s path at the sound of their navigator’s cry.

Somehow it had bled even worse than the first time, and Sanji was forced to witness it again—except, now he felt the cut as if it had sliced his own chest in two. Horror began to fill him as he watched Zoro stumble, his momentum carrying him into the railing, and another unfortunate lurch of the ship aided in throwing the swordsman’s weight backwards. Someone screamed as he tipped overboard and was immediately swallowed by the raging sea; it wasn’t until much later that Sanji realized it had been his own panicked voice piercing the roar of the storm.

His feet had taken over before his mind fully registered their movement, and suddenly he was running at breakneck speed, desperation clouding his judgement as he attempted to climb the railing and dive in after his nakama. Strong arms held him back as his captain stretched to prevent Sanji from being taken by the sea as well. More screaming permeated the sounds of the storm as the cook thrashed in Luffy’s arms—his voice was hoarse from it, muscles aching from the strain of fighting the rubber man’s immeasurable strength. 

“ZORO! LET GO OF ME! BASTARD, LET ME GO—I NEED TO GET TO HIM! HE’LL DROWN! HE’LL—!”

“Sanji, you need to calm down!” someone shouted. “We’re still in the middle of a fight!” It was Nami’s voice, and she sounded like she was on the verge of tears. Sanji almost ignored her, despite how it would go against his character to be so rude to a lady, but more arms were restraining him now as Robin helped Luffy drag him away from the railing.

The no-name pirate bastards who had decided to attack the Straw Hat crew were still in the middle of a chaotic fight. The unexpected storm had caught everyone by surprise, save for Nami, but even her forewarning hadn’t given them enough time to prepare for the onslaught of fierce wind and waves. The reminder of the battle prompted Sanji to quit his struggling and turn his attention to the remaining enemies. His eyes locked onto the bastard who was swinging around a sword coated in Zoro’s blood.

Sanji was going to kill him.

“You can’t kill him because _I’m_ gonna beat him up! You’re acting really weird,” Luffy commented, alerting Sanji to the fact that he had spoken aloud.

Robin’s grip on him tightened as their captain made a beeline for the enemy swordsman. Despite the fact that she was a woman, Sanji fought with all of his strength, surprising his crewmates who were close enough to witness the scene.

“Let me at least _look_ for Zoro— _please!_ ” he begged, choking on his own words. Fear gripped him as he watched the powerful waves that continued to batter the ship. Why were they still sailing? Why wasn’t anyone else worried about that idiot swordsman? Even Roronoa Zoro could drown the same as any man. The sea was relentless and unforgiving—Sanji had learned that at a very young age.

Luffy’s battle cries could be heard above the roaring of the storm. He singlehandedly beat the enemy crew and the captain who had hurt their first mate. Sanji had no choice but to wait where he had collapsed on the deck in Robin’s many arms—he couldn’t even find it in himself to acknowledge that he was being held by a lovely lady. He was effectively dead to the world, eyes staring blankly at the spot where Zoro had gone overboard.

The storm ended as quickly as it had come, leaving the Thousand Sunny to tread through impossibly calm waters while looking contrastingly decrepit after the beating it had endured. As soon as he was free of Robin’s restraint, Sanji turned to their navigator and said, “Turn the ship around, Nami.”

She looked down at her feet, chewing her lip nervously. “I…I’m sorry. We were tossed in every direction during that storm…I don’t know if I’ll be able to take us back to where he—”

“Well, you have to try! We can’t just leave him! He _saved_ you by taking that attack—don’t say that you can’t find him before we even start looking!” Sanji shouted, hysteria bubbling over and driving him a step forward. The crew had all gathered on the deck and was watching the cook’s outburst with seven degrees of shock. Nami just stared at him, hurt and confusion twisting her features as she regarded the blond as though he were a stranger.

In the end, Luffy decided on a random direction, and they sailed until Nami was certain they couldn’t have gotten farther during the storm. When they didn’t find any trace of the green-haired swordsman, they tried another direction. There was never any sign of Zoro, and most of the crew were forced to agree that the prospects of him being rescued were bleak. Chopper was especially distraught because he had also witnessed the swordsman’s heroic act and was certain that even Zoro wouldn’t have been able to stay conscious for long after receiving such a serious wound. Still, they continued to search.

Sanji was inconsolable. He spent most of his time sitting in the crow’s nest with a pair of binoculars and Zoro’s three swords at his side. No one said it, but the cook seemed to be taking the loss of their swordsman much harder than was to be expected, even if Zoro was his nakama. When the crew had a meeting in the galley to decide on their next course, Sanji finally lost it. He knew deep down that they would have to give up the search and continue their journey, but that didn’t stop his heart from breaking.

“Sanji-kun?” Nami asked, assuming she had heard the cook wrong.

“Out,” he repeated quietly. Something was brewing inside him that was about to burst forth whether he wanted it to or not. “Everyone…get out of my kitchen.” The tone of his voice was absolutely livid, perhaps with the intent of scaring the crew into leaving while also serving to hide the crushing sadness beneath it.

“I’ll meet you all out on the deck,” Luffy said firmly. He stood his ground, staring at the cook’s trembling form as they all rose from the table. No one dared to question their captain in a serious situation, so the rest of the crew filed calmly outside, leaving Sanji and Luffy alone in the galley.

“Luffy…”

“He’s gone,” the captain said bluntly, causing the cook to draw in a sharp gasp, his eyes widening. Luffy just looked at him from beneath the shadow of his straw hat, waiting for the blow. When it came, the source of the attack was highly uncharacteristic for the cook—he used his fist, striking the rubber man across the face with knuckles that instantly split from the unfamiliar trauma.

“How can _you_ of all people give up?!” Sanji screamed. Tears were streaming down his face now, which surprised the captain even if he didn’t show it. His cook never cried like that, except for the day when he’d left the Baratie and put his head to the ground in gratitude. Even a dense man like Luffy could tell that the cook’s anger and sadness were the result of something much deeper than simple nakamaship. 

“You really love him, huh?” he concluded, freezing the cook in place as he was winding up for another blow. A strangled sound left Sanji’s lips, and he pitched forward as his legs gave out beneath him. Luffy steadied him before he could fall, tremors reverberating through his rubber body as the other man suppressed a violent shudder. Sobs broke out in between the cook’s words as he finally mustered a response.

“He doesn’t even know, Luffy. I—I never told him, and now I c-can’t. I’ll never be able to.” He shuddered again before pushing himself out of his captain’s comforting hold. “That stupid…fucking…idiot marimo _bastard!_ I _hate_ this feeling, and it’s _his_ fault!” Sanji growled even though he knew that it was an unfair accusation. He spun around and lashed out, putting his foot through the door of the nearest cabinet. Wood splintered at the impact, showering the floor of the galley with the broken pieces and causing a rather alarming noise.

It was like a hurricane had been unleashed as the distraught cook threw everything to the floor, clearing the counter and kicking anything within reach across the room—this included Luffy when he got too close in an attempt to stop the cook from destroying his own kitchen. Knives were hurled like darts with no regard for their care, vibrating from the force of the throws as they stuck into the walls, stacks of plates were smashed recklessly, causing blood to flow from Sanji’s unprotected hands as he thoughtlessly scattered the broken shards, and all the while the cook cried.

Eventually, the racket became too much for the rest of the crew to bear, and Nami volunteered to check on the cook and captain. They were at each other’s throats when she entered the galley, surrounded by every kind of kitchen debris and—more shockingly—wasted food that had been spilled from its containers during the cook’s fit of rage.

“Sanji-kun! You have to stop this!” Nami yelled desperately. She had never seen the cool, collected man in such a state, and it set alarm bells off in her mind. She barely even flinched when he growled at her, though it was so out of the ordinary that she would later wonder if he’d gone temporarily mad with grief.

It took Luffy’s ability to stretch and restrain the other man, as well as Nami’s echoing slap to his face, to finally calm the blond down. Sanji blinked in astonishment when her hand cracked across his cheek, and he met her eyes with sudden recognition before turning his face away in shame. All of the fight left the cook’s body then, and Luffy had to hold him up or he would've simply crumpled to the ground.

“What the hell is going on with you, Sanji? I know that it’s hard to lose someone, but this behaviour is out of control. I don’t understand why—”

“No, you don’t,” Sanji cut in sharply. He wouldn’t look at her, not now.

“Then tell me why you destroyed your own kitchen. How could you let your hands get injured like this? You’re scaring us, Sanji-kun. If anyone should be losing it after what…what happened to Zoro, it should be _me._ I’m the one who he died to save—it was my fault for being too weak!”

A sob followed this proclamation, and the sound of a lady’s distress caused Sanji to twitch despite the fact that he was still too distressed to react appropriately. “It’s not your fault, Nami-san. It was that shitty-swordsman’s choice. Let me go, Luffy. I’ll be fine now,” he said lifelessly. The captain did as he was asked, allowing Sanji to pick himself up and slowly exit the galley without a backward glance.

Nami turned to Luffy in confusion, wiping tears from her eyes as she regarded his serious expression. “Why is he so upset? I know that Zoro was one of his nakama, but this is…I don’t know. I never imagined that Sanji could fall apart like that.”

“He’s really hurt. Sanji loves Zoro a lot,” Luffy explained simply.

Nami gawked at him in utter disbelief. “What do you mean? You can’t be implying that they—I mean there’s just no way that _those_ two were…”

Luffy shrugged uncomprehendingly. “We all love Zoro,” he added as if this explained it.

“Of course, but that kind of emotional breakdown doesn’t come from platonic love,” Nami mused, dumbfounded by the very thought of their cook and swordsman in some sort of romantic relationship, though she had to admit it would explain a lot of the tension that had always been between them.

Luffy shrugged it off again, stating, “It’s a mystery love, I guess. I hope he’ll be okay…”

But Sanji was far from okay. As the Straw Hats continued their voyage without their first-mate, a serious change came over the cook that confounded everyone on the crew. He never seemed to smile—not even when talking to Nami and Robin. In fact, his usual fawning and flirting had stopped completely, though he was always unfailingly polite. He had also refused to be in the galley or cook a single meal for the entire day after the incident where he trashed the kitchen. Usopp and Franky took it upon themselves to clean up the mess and repair everything that had gotten broken as best as they could.

Once Sanji had returned to his duties as the ship’s cook, he always plated food for nine people, and Luffy would retrieve the extra helping from Zoro’s unoccupied place at the table. He continued to care for and polish Zoro’s three katana and would never let any of the other crewmembers touch them; they stayed in the crow’s nest where Sanji spent a lot of his time smoking and staring out at the sea with a far-off melancholy expression. 

Almost everyone on the crew now suspected that the cook and the swordsman had been romantically involved in some way. There was no other explanation for such an extreme reaction to Zoro’s death. The biggest indicator, however, was that the cook had taken to sleeping in Zoro’s bunk—even wearing the swordsman’s white t-shirt as pajamas. No one ever mentioned it, or questioned Sanji about his strange behaviour, because it was obvious that the blond needed time to heal if there were any hope of him letting Zoro go.

*

A month went by before it was discovered that the swordsman had survived after all—against incredible odds and due to extremely lucky circumstances. It turned out that the band of pirates who had attacked the Straw Hats were being tracked by a Marine ship that had followed them from the previous island. When the storm had hit, and Zoro had been thrown overboard, he had managed to stay afloat using the flotsam and jetsam that had been washed into the sea. By pure coincidence, the Marines had passed by in pursuit of the pirate crew that had already been defeated, and the swordsman had made quick work of obtaining weapons and taking out the pathetically weak marines on-board.

He had been smart enough to track down the doctor and navigator, threatening a group of marines into stitching up his wound and continuing to sail, but it hadn’t been until weeks later that news of the Straw Hat pirates finally filtered through to the commandeered ship, and Zoro had been able to meet up with the Sunny at another island.   

The reunion had been an emotional one, filled with an appropriate amount of crying, hugging, disbelief, and joyful acceptance from most of the crew. The only member who didn’t participate in the celebration was Sanji. As soon as it had been confirmed that Zoro was alive and well, the cook had mysteriously disappeared. Everyone began a frantic search for him, which had confused the swordsman until Luffy demanded that he meet him in the crow’s nest.

“Why is everyone so worked up about that idiot-cook wandering off? He probably just went to do some shopping or find a fancy restaurant...Could’ve said hello first, though,” Zoro remarked gruffly. No matter how good he was at concealing the fact that it secretly pissed him off that Sanji hadn’t so much as offered a simple, “Glad you’re not dead, marimo,” the ever insightful captain could see right through his first-mate's flippant demeanor.

“You need to talk to Sanji right away. He’s really upset,” Luffy said without preamble.

“Why would he be upset? Was he hoping he’d get to be the next first-mate, and my miraculous return from the dead ruined that for him?”

Luffy shot the swordsman a hard look that made even Zoro swallow a lump of shame. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that. Sanji was more hurt than any of us when he thought you were gone. I’ve never seen him cry like that.”

“He…he cried? That’s impossible,” Zoro replied, dumbstruck at the very thought of the prickly cook crying over him. Sure, they were nakama, and they had really good sex when they managed to hide it from the crew, but they had always been like water and oil—rivals who got on each other’s nerves to no end, bickering and fighting like cats and dogs both in _and_ out of the sheets.

Luffy was continuing before Zoro could stop him—the swordsman didn’t think that the cook would appreciate his emotional response being revealed in such detail, but it seemed that their captain was determined to make Zoro understand the depth of Sanji’s grief.

“He tried to jump in when you went overboard, you know. He fought Robin and yelled at Nami when they tried to calm him down, and he was so mad when we had to stop looking for you that he destroyed the galley. He even hurt his hands, but he didn’t seem to care—I don’t think he cared about _anything._ After we set a course for the next island, he would only stay around the crew long enough to cook, and he always made a meal for you. When he wasn’t cooking, he would stay in the men’s dorm or sit up in the crow’s nest cleaning your swords. Sanji never even tried to hide how much he loved you. The rest of the crew seemed really surprised, but I always knew,” Luffy said in a rush.

Zoro could feel that his mouth was hanging open—he could barely form a coherent thought, let alone words, in response to that load of information. His hands began trembling, and he had to clench them into fists, drawing blood on his own palms. “Is all of that really true?” he asked roughly even though he didn’t actually think that Luffy would lie to him. When the captain gave him a curt nod, the swordsman put his head in his hands.

“That stupid…fucking…curly-browed moron! Why didn’t he tell me before? I’m gonna _kill_ him after I kiss him.”

Luffy laughed at that, his serious expression easily transitioning into a painfully wide grin. “I knew you loved him back—even though you fight all the time. You’re both pretty dumb.”

“Thanks, Luffy,” Zoro snorted, but he truly meant it. “Now I have to hunt down that stupid cook and figure out why he’s avoiding me.”

The swordsman was out the trapdoor in a flash, his thoughts running wild as he made his way down the rigging. It was unreal—too good to be true—that Sanji could actually care about him so deeply. They had only been intimate for a few months before Zoro’s near-death experience, and the swordsman had been sure that the lady-loving cook was only interested in him for fighting and fucking. Sanji had never expressed a desire for anything more, and if he ever acted in any way that could be construed as romantic, the cook had been quick to assure Zoro that that was simply how he was:

“I _am_ the love-cook, so you’re just gonna have to put up with this flowery shit sometimes if you want to keep doing this,” Sanji had told him while cuddling into the swordsman during one of their post-coital relaxations. “It doesn’t mean I like you, shit-head,” he’d insisted.

Zoro, being the dense fool that he was, had taken the other man for his word and assumed that Sanji was just an affectionate lover despite the fact that his lover was his rival. The damn cook was constantly telling Zoro how much he hated him, so why would that change just because they were having sex? The swordsman had never even considered that those intimate moments could be anything more than the begrudging release of sexual frustration, regardless of how much he secretly wished that the blond would return his hidden affections.

Zoro wasn’t quite as stoic as people assumed him to be. He had rarely experienced the dreaded "morning after" with his sexual partners, let alone doing it repeatedly with the same person, so it wasn’t a huge surprise when he woke up one day next to Sanji’s gorgeous, sleeping face and thought, “Well, shit. I guess I kind of like the bastard.”

The swordsman also wasn’t the type to lie to himself. He'd accepted that an attachment had begun to form, but he didn’t want their late-night romps to end over something as stupid as unrequited _feelings._ They were pirates, after all, and Sanji had made it clear from the beginning that he didn’t like men in _that_ way—he just wanted to relieve some tension, and Zoro was the only option on-board who was around his age and not one of his precious ladies, who despite how his actions made it seem, he would never dream of using for such a lewd purpose.

All of that effort to convince the swordsman otherwise, and the blond had apparently fallen for him anyway. _What a lovesick idiot,_ Zoro thought affectionately. He was grinning like a madman as he searched the ship for the rest of the crew, finally running into their orange-haired navigator.

“Did anybody find him?” he asked immediately.

Nami cocked her head, a sly grin stretching across her face. “Robin spotted him in town with her devil fruit powers. Why are you so anxious to see him, huh? This thing between the two of you is really suspicious, and I have to admit that I’m curious about the kind of relationship you have with each other,” she hinted cleverly.

Zoro growled with growing impatience. He was not in the mood to play this game with the sea-witch at the moment, which meant that he was also beyond caring if he had to tell her the truth. It was clear that she wanted information before she would tell him where his cook had gone, so he decided that the secret wasn’t worth her stalling him any longer. From what Luffy had said, the cat was already out of the bag anyway—thanks to a certain grieving blond.

“We’re fucking each other, okay? I actually sort of like him though, so if you would just tell me where the hell he went, I can go and tell _him_ that.”

Nami’s eyes lit up with in amusement, a short laugh bursting out in glee. “I knew it! It was obvious with the way he slept in your clothes and bed and everything, but I wondered to what extent the two of you were involved. This is great! You still have to confess your love to him, aww~~♥!”

“H-hey, slow down—nobody said anything about _love,_ ” he complained instantly, his face flushing at the implication of her words. Yes, he had feelings for the blond, but Zoro was still a little shy about admitting even that, so he wasn’t about to embarrass himself by making some sort of grand romantic gesture. He just wanted to see Sanji smile and find out in the cook’s own words why he’d been avoiding him.

“Are you gonna tell me where he is or not?” he snapped, breaking the woman out of her silly daydream.

She smirked and handed him a folded piece of paper. “He’s staying in room 369 at a hotel called the Sweet Repose. I drew you a map with a list of simple instructions so that even you can find it with your dismal sense of direction. Now go get him, tiger!”

“I hate you, you know that?” he said, blushing deeper as he snatched the paper from her hand, but they both knew that this really translated to, “Thanks for the help.”

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for him to get to the hotel (he only got lost once, but a passing villager was able to quickly point him on the right path again), and it was relatively easy to find because it was the tallest building in the area. In no time at all, the swordsman was running through the lobby, climbing the stairs two at a time to the third floor, and pounding on the door marked with the golden numbers 369.

A very tired-looking Sanji opened it, his eye going wide when he came face to face with the green-haired man leaning against the door-frame and panting as if he’d run all of the way from the ship (which he had).

“What the fuck are you doing here, mosshead?” Sanji growled instantly, half-closing the door as if he could hide himself behind it.

“I need to talk to you, curly. Are you gonna make me stand out here all day or invite me inside? Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman?” he asked with a smirk. Sanji growled at that, but quickly averted his gaze from Zoro’s cocky smirk.

“I’m busy. Can’t you tell that I wanted to be alone for one freaking night? Why else would I be here, dumbass? If you’ve got something to say, it can wait until later,” he said dismissively, attempting to shut the door.

Zoro stuck a foot in before it could click shut, surprising the blond by shoving it open and quickly slipping inside. “What the hell, asshole? I didn’t say you could come in! Ever think that maybe I was entertaining company or something, you manner-less ape!”

“As if,” Zoro replied with a snort. Before Sanji could offer an angry retort, he reminded him, “You said you wanted to be alone, Cook.”

“Yeah, and I do. So get out.”

 “Nope.”

“ _Excuse me?”_ Sanji snapped.

“Don’t wanna.”

The blond just glared at him in angry silence. He wasn’t wearing his usual suit or perfectly matching ensemble; instead, he looked…comfortable. Sanji rarely wore comfortable clothes because he knew how to wear his prissy outfits and still look effortlessly comfortable in them. However, now he was moping around in a dark hotel room in a pair off loose-fitting sweats that obviously belonged to Zoro. The swordsman felt a surge of pride and possessiveness at seeing Sanji in his clothes followed by the plummeting sensation of worried confusion at the defeated posture that the clothes failed to hide.

“Sanji…” he began seriously. The other man looked at him in surprise at hearing his real name, but he quickly covered it with a scowl that didn’t seem to match the way his body curled in on itself.

“If you’re calling by my actual name, I guess that means you already know,” he said slowly, refusing to meet Zoro’s eyes.

“What do I know?”

“They must have told you everything that happened, and how I…I…when everyone thought you had d-died—”

“Luffy explained it as simply as possible, and I read between the lines. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked in a softer voice.

Sanji still wouldn’t look at him. He shifted awkwardly in place, wrapping his arms around himself like he was insecure about something, perhaps the clothes. Zoro hated seeing him like that. He didn’t understand why someone as strong as the cook was still grieving like this after seeing him alive and well. They usually shrugged it off when the other was hurt, even in near-death situations when they were unsure whether or not the other had survived. What was so different about this time that Sanji couldn’t fall back into their usual pattern?

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he tried again since the blond hadn’t said a word in response to his last question.

“Why do you _think?_ ” Sanji snapped harshly, anger burning in his eyes to mask the hurt. “I didn’t want to see you. I knew they would tell you how I reacted, and I don’t want to have this stupid conversation,” he explained bitterly.

“What exactly do you think I’m going to say to you? I don’t think this is stupid. I want to understand what the fuck’s going on in your brain, Cook.”

“Tch. Don’t play dumb, marimo. If you read between the lines then you already know that I’m fucking pathetic. I wouldn’t be surprised if you came here just to laugh in my face.”

“I’m not—”

“I know that you’re actually a nice guy underneath the muscles and tough-guy act, but you don’t have to be nice to me. I know that I fucked up—I know I’m a complete hypocrite who went and did exactly what we agreed _not_ to do when we started fucking. I’m already embarrassed enough without you showing up to my pity-party and throwing it in my face,” he raged.

Zoro grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him roughly, causing Sanji to make a startled, “Mmphf!” noise that transitioned into a dangerous growl, but Zoro ignored him in favor of shutting him up for a minute. He couldn’t stand to hear that nonsense coming from the cook’s mouth for a second longer, so he kissed him even as Sanji snarled and bit at his lips—even as he beat his hands against Zoro’s sides and pulled at his hair.

If Sanji had really wanted him to stop, he would have used his legs to kick him in the face. Zoro could tell that the blond wasn’t actually attempting to get away; in fact, he was an equal participant in the rapidly heating, increasingly angry kiss. Zoro grabbed a fistful of his own sweatshirt as they broke apart, both of them panting hard from the rush of adrenaline and hormones assaulting them.

“You look good in this, Cook,” he said gruffly, smiling despite himself.

“How the fuck do you get off saying shit like that when we’re in the middle of something like this?” Sanji asked him aggressively.

“Okay, fair enough. We can finish making-out first,” Zoro reasoned, leaning in again.

“Idiot!” Sanji snapped, stopping his advance with a foot to the chest this time. “I didn’t mean _that_ —I meant that we were having an important conversation!”

“Yeah, but you were saying stupid shit, so I had to shut you up. I don’t want to hear that crap. If you wanted something more from me than sex, you should’ve just said so. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, idiot-cook. I would’ve been fine with it,” he admitted quickly, freezing Sanji in place.

“Y-you mean you’re not mad or...I don't know—”

“No, I’m not mad about that. I’m mad that you didn’t say a fucking thing to me when I basically returned from the dead. You just walked away like you didn’t give a shit. That was cold, Cook.”

“I—”

“You know what? Don’t apologize—I don’t care anymore. Just kiss me again,” he decided, reeling the blond in by his own sweater. Their lips met in a fierce kiss that was so painfully sweet Sanji literally melted into it. Zoro could feel the relief flooding into the other man’s body as he crushed them together, every inch lining up like their shapes had been made to fit the other perfectly. They crashed into the nearest piece of furniture, hands tangled in each other’s hair as Zoro pinned the blond against a wooden dresser. It was the perfect height for him to lift Sanji by the waist and set him on top, changing the angle to deepen their kiss.

The swordsman wrapped those amazingly long legs around his hips, humming in contentment when Sanji locked his ankles together behind his back and pulled them closer, lining their groins up and effectively trapping Zoro between his powerful thighs. He ran his hands over those thighs, loving the familiar feeling of the cook’s well-trained muscles flexing beneath his wandering hands. He massaged every inch of Sanji’s glorious legs, kissing a wet, burning trail along his jaw. The blond was running his fingers through Zoro’s hair and over his shoulders, scraping delicious lines down the swordsman’s powerful back.

“Mmm, Zoro?” Sanji said breathlessly, panting with unrestrained need under the insistent touches of his lover.  

“Yeah, babe?” he replied, lips splitting into a devilish smirk against the cook’s flushed throat. He ignored the growl of annoyance from Sanji in response to this epithet and continued sucking the most sensitive spots on his neck. Already a dark bruise was forming from the pleasurable abuse of his fair skin, and Zoro was very much aware that the placement of his love-bite would be impossible to cover up. For once, he couldn’t have cared less no matter how mad it would make the cook.

“Shit-head! Leave it to you to say the most obnoxious thing and ruin my romantic moment,” Sanji complained. “And stop trying to leave marks like you’re staking a claim! I tell you that I love you, and now you think that you own me? Possessive jerk.”

Zoro pulled back and beamed up at the bristling blond. “Actually, you didn’t tell me that. I had to hear it from _Luffy_ , and _you’re_ complaining about ruined romance? That’s a shitty second-hand confession if I ever heard one, Cook. You’ll have to step up your game.” He kissed him fiercely, silencing any further complaints. “Also, it’s too late to avoid noticeable bruising—everyone will know that you’re mine.”

“Fuck you,” Sanji snapped, but he leaned forwards to continue the kiss himself, so the words held no real weight.

“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll let you,” Zoro shot back with an infuriating grin.

“Har har. You’re about as mature as a twelve-year-old.”

“No, seriously. I’ll even let you top tonight, Cook. Anything goes. I’m gonna make it up to you for scaring you so bad.”

“I wasn’t scare—”

“I would’ve been scared…if it’d been you. I can’t even imagine how terrified I would be if I saw you take a slash like that and go overboard. I thought about you guys a lot while I was making my way back to the Sunny. I was worried that you all thought I was dead, and I was afraid that by the time I made it home, you’d have gotten over it and continued the journey without me. That’s what I would want if I’d died for real, but I’m not dead yet, Cook, and won’t be for a long time if I have anything to say about it.”

“Don’t be stupid. How could any of us ever just ‘get over it’? Especially me. There would be no getting over it—not ever.” The cook’s voice cracked, and his words seemed to become more and more difficult to get out as his emotions overwhelmed him. “I…I just—fuck. S-sorry…”

“I know, Sanji. It’s alright,” Zoro whispered softly, reaching up to take the cook’s face in his hands. The blond was trembling with the effort of fighting back tears, fingers clenched around Zoro’s t-shirt and legs tensed in an iron cage to keep the swordsman close. A single drop of liquid had escaped and cut a glistening tear-track down his cheek. Zoro kissed it away and transferred the salty taste to Sanji’s lips. “Don’t ever apologize for feeling this way. I know that neither of us expected this to happen when we first started, but it did. I love you, Sanji.”

Sanji’s breath hitched at the words. His face, which was already flushed from lust, reddened shyly at the swordsman’s confession. “J-just shut up and kiss me,” he stuttered in embarrassment. Everything about him in that moment was so foreign and new to Zoro, who had never seen the other man in such an emotionally vulnerable state, that he felt another swell of pride at having the privilege of witnessing it. His eyes raked over Sanji’s ruffled appearance, drinking in the unusual view of the ever so put-together cook in a sweat suit that was three sizes too big for his lean frame. 

“You can keep that outfit, by the way. It’s sexy as hell.”

“Yeah right,” he scoffed. “It looks ridiculous, and we both know it.”

Zoro shook his head in denial, latching onto the cook’s neck again as his hands wandered beneath the soft fabric. “It’s the second hottest outfit I’ve seen you in, Cook…behind your birthday suit of course,” he murmured sexily, dragging his tongue over the fully-formed love-bite and latching on to darken it.  

Sanji couldn’t contain his laughter at that remark, prompting Zoro to smile even wider at the sound of his voice, completely devoid of its earlier melancholy. They quickly stripped off the enormous shirt, giving Zoro access to more of his skin despite the risk of him marking it up even further. Sanji was much less inclined to resist, not even caring if he were to wake up covered head-to-toe in bruises. He just wanted Zoro’s mouth on him—all over him.

Strong hands gripped the cook's waist, dragging his hips off of the dresser and flush against a wall of firm, sculpted muscle. He kept his legs locked around the swordsman’s body as Zoro made his way to the bed, lips still smashed together and tongues battling ferociously. They broke for air as Zoro laid him down on the mattress, both panting and desperate for more skin-on-skin contact. It had been weeks since they'd seen each other and neither had ever been more attracted to their lover.

Sanji literally tore the white t-shirt from Zoro’s body, causing the swordsman to raise his eyebrows and respond by removing the cook’s pants with equal vigor. The ruined white fabric fluttered to the floor along with Sanji’s borrowed sweats, which were quickly followed by the rest of their clothes. Zoro wasted no time in wetting the cook’s skin from his neck to his torso, abs, hips, and thighs, leaving the most desperate part for last.

He was surprised when Sanji hooked a leg around him and flipped them over, taking the swordsman’s cock eagerly into his mouth. Usually, the cook liked to draw out their foreplay, and Zoro enjoyed it enough to ignore his impatience and thoroughly ravish the blond. They’d fallen into a pattern where he would always reduce the cook to a dripping, shivering, mess before sucking him off and fucking him. Recently, Sanji had expressed a desire to switch it up more often, which Zoro wasn’t opposed to even if he pretended to give the cook a hard time. He honestly just enjoyed the resulting battle for dominance, and Sanji seemed to like fighting for the position as much as he did.

Zoro figured that since the cook had reversed their usual pattern, he was going to take the swordsman up on his offer and lead the show tonight. He let himself sink into the mattress as Sanji swallowed him whole, his slender fingers gripping the swordsman firmly at the base and dipping to kiss his fist. Zoro tried not to immediately moan at the feeling of his lover’s talented mouth sucking him so desperately, even though it had been weeks since he’d seen the blond, and he was already painfully hard from the rushed foreplay.

“God…I’m sorry, Sanji. I missed you so much—you and your damn filthy mouth,” he growled, panting with unrestrained pleasure and need. He did moan then, because the cook was not allowing him any reprieve from his relentless tongue dragging over every inch of Zoro’s cock. He could already feel his orgasm building so swiftly that it was making him lightheaded. Just before he warned the blond that he was about to come, Sanji released his cock with a wet pop and gave the base a punishing squeeze.

“Sorry?” he said, so quietly that Zoro had to strain to hear him. He continued with a rising tone that steadily increased in fury. “You’re _sorry?_   Sorry for what? Letting go of your swords? Playing the hero? Leaving me behind when the waves washed you away? Or maybe you’re sorry for being unable to remember the number for the Sunny’s transponder snail to let us know that you were fucking _alive!”_

Suddenly the swordsman’s torso was pinned beneath Sanji’s powerful legs, and his wrists were being shoved into the mattress above his head as the cook leaned over him. One dark, stormy eye pierced Zoro’s, emphasizing the vicious snarl that ripped its way out of Sanji’s mouth. It was a sound of pure anguish coated so thickly with anger that anyone else would have assumed that was all it was.

“You insufferable _moron,_ ” he added when Zoro grimaced in guilty agreement—he _had_ forgotten the number to the transponder snail, and it was true that one simple call would have avoided much grief.  

“You’ll still continue to suffer me, though. Doesn’t that also make you a moron, Cook?”

Sanji glared at him murderously. “You think it’ll be that easy to make me forgive you?! Do you have any idea what I went through these past weeks—what the _crew_ went through?” He leaned down farther, covering Zoro’s body with his and placing his lips against the shell of the swordsman’s ear to whisper an erotic threat. “I’m going to fuck you _raw,_ Zoro. I want to see tears in your eyes. You’re going to beg me to fuck you even harder by the end of it until you’re screaming my name and swearing to the God you don’t believe in that you will never fucking put me through that shit again.”

Sanji bit down just above his earrings with a growl, shocking the swordsman with the pain and pleasure of it—the cook’s words had turned him on so fiercely that he was confusing the two. He could feel hot breath against his neck and then the bite of teeth and lips sucking along his jaw and down his throat. His hands were still pinned above his head, but he had no desire to wrestle control from Sanji as he usually would have despite knowing that he could due to the difference in their upper body strength. No, Zoro was going to do something that he had never done in bed before—not with any of his partners...

He was going to submit.

In fact, he _wanted_ to. This was a completely new side of Sanji that the swordsman had always known existed but had never allowed to take over. Even if the cook had only topped a few times during the weeks leading up to their recent separation, Zoro fully believed that the other man could do exactly as he was threatening. He met Sanji’s eyes, aware that the other man was waiting for his response. No matter how aggressive his words were, Zoro knew that the cook would never fuck him in any way that was not mutually agreed on.

“I assume that you guys took care of the bastard who cut me, which means that there’s nobody else to blame for what happened, but if you still want someone to punish than I’ll gladly let it be me.” He looked up at Sanji with a challenging grin and rolled his hips, grinding their erections together. The blond let out a breathy moan and met him with an even stronger thrust.

“Fuck me, Cook.”

Sanji flashed him a wild—almost feral—grin. “If you insist.”

Zoro let his head fall back as the cook resumed his assault on the swordsman’s neck. Wet lips pressed into the hollow of his throat and followed the dip of his collarbone, tongue trailing over every contour of his well-toned body. The trail ended at his right nipple, which Sanji took into his mouth and sucked with an appreciative moan. He nipped and licked at it as if it were a particularly delicious dessert while his long fingers caressed the swordsman’s sides so gently that it almost tickled.

Zoro bucked his hips, subconsciously seeking more friction between their groins, but Sanji instantly growled his disapproval and bit his chest roughly, just above the biggest scar. The skin there was sensitive, causing Zoro to cry out and immediately cease all fidgeting. He knew how this worked—he had decided to yield all control to the cook, and there was no way that the blond wasn’t going to take full advantage of his compliance. Sanji was going to direct everything tonight, and he would definitely try his damnedest to embarrass the swordsman by wielding complete dominance over him.

Zoro’s face was already burning when the cook made his first demand. The blond abruptly sat up and slid off of the bed to look down at the swordsman’s haphazardly sprawled form. “Sit up, and get on your knees,” he said calmly. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Zoro slowly did as he was asked. “Turn around,” Sanji added, still as cool as could be standing confidently in all his naked glory.

Zoro swallowed his apprehension and turned to kneel with his back to the blond. “Put your hands behind you,” the cook added, sounding suddenly less collected. Perhaps it was the tantalizing view of the swordsman’s backside that was causing his heart to race, or the fact that his lover was behaving so submissively for the first time, but whatever the case, Sanji had the unshakable Roronoa Zoro at his mercy and a perverted imagination that was running away with endless possibilities.

In a flash, the blond retrieved one of his ties from the dresser and bound the swordsman’s hands behind his back. If Zoro was surprised by this, he didn’t show it. Instead, he looked over his shoulder and smirked at Sanji’s choice of restraint before reading the cook’s mind and bending to place one cheek against the mattress. He actually heard the blond swallow as his mouth went dry at the action.

“Should I call you _‘master’?”_   he asked with an equal mix of lust and irony in his voice. It was harder to see the cook’s expression from this angle, but it was still obvious that Sanji’s face was just as red as his. He appeared to have temporarily lost the ability to speak and was openly staring at the swordsman with unmistakable awe…and what a sight it was. The spell was broken when Zoro cocked his eyebrow smugly and said, “Did you hear me, Cook?”

Suddenly the blond draped himself over his lover’s back, pressing his cock into the crack of Zoro’s ass and leaning down to speak into his ear. “You can call me by my fucking name, marimo. Sanji. No stupid nicknames or epithets. Just Sanji.”

“Tch. You can call me marimo, but I have to call you Sanji?” he shot back, forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to be submissive not sarcastic. This slip-up was not to be ignored by the temperamental blond. Sanji gripped him by the shoulders and yanked him into an upright position, bending his head back over the cook’s shoulder and forcing the swordsman to arc his back as far as his limited flexibility would allow.

“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want, _marimo_ ,” he growled sexily. His hand was cupped around Zoro’s forehead, tilting it to expose his throat and extend the curve of his neck. The swordsman shivered at the feeling of Sanji’s tongue licking a line from the base of his throat to the tip of his ear where he wrapped his lips around the three golden earrings and gently rolled them in his mouth. His left hand reached around to grasp Zoro’s throbbing cock, and he began pumping it lazily while simultaneously rubbing his own erection between Zoro’s ass cheeks.

The swordsman let himself melt into Sanji, dropping his head onto his shoulder so that the blond wouldn’t have to hold it in place. This left the cook with a free hand to caress his abs, chest, and ass, giving the latter a firm squeeze before returning to Zoro’s chest to play with his nipple. Small embarrassing moans were slipping out of the swordsman’s mouth at the cook’s generous treatment—he was truly enjoying being on this end of things because as much as he loved making Sanji come undone with his touch, it was certainly pleasurable to have his body receive all the attention for once.

The downside of this was that he already felt like coming. “S-sanji,” he said, surprised by the neediness in his voice. “I’m going to—”

“Uh uh uh, we can’t have that. I’m not done with you yet,” the cook purred, releasing the swordsman’s cock immediately. Zoro nearly whined in disappointment but knew better than to vocalize his frustration. He wouldn’t put it passed the blond to ‘punish’ him by spanking him or something equally as perverted. “Turn around, marimo.”

As soon as he was released, Zoro awkwardly shifted to face the cook again, who was looking at him wantonly and licking his lips in anticipation. The swordsman took a moment to admire Sanji’s cock, flushed beautifully and standing at full attention—for Zoro. The sight never failed to make him feel proud (and more than a little smug) for having seduced the womanizing cook so thoroughly in the first place. He had been the first man to ever capture Sanji’s interest, and he would be the last if he had anything to say about it.

“I want to touch you,” he said huskily, hands straining against the fabric of the tie. He knew that he shouldn’t be making demands, but he just couldn’t help it. Even if Zoro had managed to seduce the cook, Sanji had captivated him even more thoroughly from the very beginning, and every day his attraction to the blond had grown until he'd started to think that he could come just from seeing at him naked. He was looking now, and Sanji was every bit his ideal man—physically flawless and damn near perfect all around in the swordsman’s eyes (not that he would ever say so—in fact, he would almost rather die than admit it).

The cook cocked his head with a smirk, reaching out to grip Zoro’s green hair by the roots. “You can touch me, but _I’ll_ decide how,” he reminded him slyly, bringing the swordsman’s head down to his erection with a sharp jerk. Zoro nearly lost his balance kneeling at the edge of the mattress, so he had no choice but to take Sanji’s cock to the hilt in order to stabilize himself and keep from falling forward. Without his hands to support himself, he was forced to lean into the blond curls each time he swallowed the other man's cock. It helped that Sanji was thrusting into his mouth, giving him just enough momentum to slide his lips up to the tip before repeating the motion.

“Get it nice and wet because I don’t have anything to use for lube, and I want you to scream in pleasure not pain.”

Zoro fought against gravity to pull his head up and offer the blond a sultry grin. “I like a little bit of pain,” he remarked, returning to his task with increased vigor. Sanji moaned appreciatively and began thrusting faster, hitting the back of Zoro’s throat each time. It was a good thing that the swordsman had trained his gag-reflex to accept such harsh treatment, or he certainly would have choked.

After a few more dips, Sanji tightened his grip on Zoro’s hair and pulled him off of his cock with a satisfied grunt. He was panting heavily and clearly very near coming, so he ducked down to meet Zoro’s mouth with his own to give himself a moment to recede from the brink of orgasm. This was the one part that the swordsman knew he could fight back for because Sanji didn’t like to just plunder his mouth while he lay there and took it. He wanted a battle of tongues, the clashing of teeth, and a mutually aggressively kiss that took both their breaths away.

Zoro gave him all of that and more, putting everything he had into meeting the cook’s passion and escalating it because he didn’t need his arms to dominate Sanji in this regard. They molded against each other, Zoro still kneeling on the edge of the bed and Sanji standing in front of him with his hands tangled in the swordsman’s short hair, his hips thrusting their erections together. He still couldn’t seem to get close enough, so he resorted to planting a knee on either side of Zoro’s and forcing the swordsman’s back against the mattress.

Now the cook was straddling him on the bed while continuing to thrust and kiss him so fiercely that he felt like his heart would burst. It was almost too much for the swordsman to handle. He was so hard that his thoughts were only of Sanji—he wanted to give himself completely, but more so, he wanted Sanji to _take_ him. He couldn’t believe he’d ever had any reservations about being the submissive. It was so fucking hot.

 _“Please!”_   he panted—begged—when Sanji gave him a moment of respite to catch his breath. “Fuck me, Sanji. Shove it in, rip me open, I don’t care—just _do it!_ ”

This time, the cook didn’t challenge his demand. He shoved three fingers into Zoro’s mouth and latched onto the side of his neck to complete his myriad of love-bites while the swordsman coated his fingers with saliva. There was no room for banter or posturing in their sudden haste—both men were in full-on sex mode, taken over by the animal instinct to ravage the other in a frenzy of blind lust. Sanji’s pupils were blown wide, his movements erratic but purposeful as he thrust two fingers into Zoro and started pumping them roughly to stretch out his hole.

The swordsman would later be ashamed of the sounds he made, but in the moment he cried out with abandon and rolled his hips to increase the force of Sanji’s fingers meeting his prostate. The cook had this spot memorized by now, and he knew how to abuse it with all of the skill that was expected of the love-cook. A third finger was added at some point, but Zoro hardly noticed since he was totally lost in the blissful finger-fuck. They wasted no time in repositioning themselves for the real show. Sanji tossed him to the side to roll him onto his stomach, gripping his waist and lifting it so that Zoro could curl his knees under himself and lift his ass in the air.     

The swordsman pressed his face into the mattress and gasped at the rough entry—the cook hadn’t paused for even a moment before thrusting inside and splitting him open. It hurt more than any other time someone had topped him, but Zoro had approximately negative 10 fucks to give when he could feel his lover’s hot cock throbbing inside him after so long. He rocked back into the first thrust, silently encouraging the blond to skip the warm-up and get straight to the pounding. 

Sanji was happy to oblige, slamming into him with all the force of his most powerful leg techniques. Zoro’s cry was muffled by the mattress, prompting the cook to grip his forearms and pull back, giving him the support to raise his torso albeit with the disadvantage of straining his shoulders. His muscles screamed at the position, but Sanji continued to thrust into him until the swordsman was moaning and shaking from the effort of holding himself up. The blond sensed that Zoro was reaching the limit of comfortable endurance, so he released the tie’s knot and allowed him to collapsed forward with his arms freed.

“Fuck, Sanji. Harder! Fuck me harder,” he gasped, and the pace immediately increased to its peak. Zoro used his arms to brace himself properly and rock into the cook’s thrusts while Sanji gripped his waist with bruising force and pulled to aid his backward motion. The cook pounded into him like it was the last time they would ever have sex—Zoro briefly wondered if maybe it was when he saw white and abruptly came so hard that he wouldn't have been surprised if he woke up in some sort of afterlife having been literally fucked to death.

His come shot out at a surprising rate, splashing his torso with the force of his release and spilling all over the bedsheets. He screamed Sanji’s name as he felt his lover’s cock pulse and shoot thick, hot streams inside him. The cooked gasped and moaned Zoro’s name in response, curling over him to press his forehead against the swordsman’s back as he rode out his orgasm. Zoro collapsed underneath him, golden hair spilling over his shoulder as the cook covered him like a blanket. They were both sweating and panting like they’d just finished a marathon, and the swordsman’s entire body was singing with the lingering sensation of Sanji’s powerful thrusts shaking him to his bones.

The blond managed to pull out and roll over, melting into the mattress at Zoro’s side with a satisfied sigh. The swordsman caught his hand and brought it to his lips, pressing an affectionate kiss on the knuckles. Sanji’s already flushed face grew impossibly hotter at the tender action, but he held his lover’s gaze regardless of his blush.

“Zoro—”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, painfully aware that his eyes were wet with unshed tears.

“Did I hurt you? I should’ve—”

“Sanji.” The blond paused and stared at him, eyes wide. “I am so, _so_ sorry. I wish I could say that I’ll never do something like that again, and you’ll never have to see me go down before we all achieve our dreams, but I don’t know what will happen in the future. All I can promise is that whatever happens, I’ll find my way back to you or die trying.”

The cook let out an indistinct noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, and he let Zoro reel him into the circle of his arms. “You goddamned romantic bastard. You’d better not break that promise—I’ll fucking kill you,” he muttered, burying his face in the swordsman’s neck to hide the moisture forming in his own eyes.

“I know you will, Cook. Even if I were dead, you’d find a way to kill me again, huh?”

“Damn right. Don’t you ever go fucking dying on us like that. I don’t want to experience that hell again. I’d never really thought about it, you know—what it would be like if you died. Even if I had, I could never have imagined what it would do to me. I…lost myself,” he said softly.

Zoro kissed the top of his head and buried his noise in the blond locks. “Don’t go picking up bad habits from me, Cook. I die, and suddenly _you’re_ the one getting lost? That’s not right. You’ve got to lead the way for the crew—keep ‘em happy and well fed. What would your precious ladies do without you to bring them fruity drinks all day?”

“I want to bring _you_ drinks, marimo. Just…stay with me,” Sanji said, his face flaming in embarrassment. Zoro rolled them until he was hovering over the cook’s long body. He leaned down to kiss him slowly and deeply, fitting their bodies together with insistent pressure.

“I’ll take sake in place of those girly cocktails you make,” he murmured against the other’s lips.

“Mmm…okay. Can we cuddle now that you’re done crying?” Sanji asked, grinning up at the swordsman, who shot him an exaggerated frown.

“I _wasn’t_ crying, and you definitely weren’t crying either. We just had a few manly tears well up because of sex hormones.”

 _“What?!”_ Sanji laughed, shoving the other man to the side and snuggling up beside him. “Sex hormones?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah. That’s a thing. They make even the manliest of men get emotional sometimes. No big deal. We’re still super badass pirates.”

Sanji laughed again, practically giggling at Zoro’s attempt at justifying the intensity of his feelings. All traces of the melancholy and grief that had been afflicting him had vanished, returning him to the strong, free-spirited man that Zoro loved. It calmed the swordsman in ways that couldn’t be expressed in words to see the cook smiling and laughing as he had before the swordsman's near-death experience.

“You know, for a super manly badass pirate, you’re kind of a dork,” Sanji remarked heartily. 

“You love me though,” Zoro stated confidently. The blond nodded shyly, humming in content when the swordsman claimed his lips. “You’re no better than me, Cook. What kind of dork falls in love with his rival? These past few weeks have been like one badly written romance novel. I refuse to die and let you become some sort of tragic heroine.”

 _"Heroine?_ I’m not a woman, asshole! Don’t make me out to be a goddamn damsel in distress.”

Zoro gazed down at the cook, his tone transitioning from lighthearted to serious. “You sure as hell were in distress, though. I don’t want you to ever lose yourself like that again, Sanji,” he said honestly, kissing the blond with uncharacteristic tenderness. “I love you exactly as you are.”

 

End


End file.
